


Be asking how's it going (say the goings well)

by tulipchild



Category: Larry - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dirty Talk, Feelings, M/M, Not Underage, Older Harry, Shy Louis, Smut, Student Louis, Student/Teacher, Teacher Harry, Top Harry, Younger Louis, porn with little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tulipchild/pseuds/tulipchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He completely ignores the way some of the girls’, and even a few of the boys’, eyes bulge as they send discreet glances to each other after having a look at Harry. He’s not so egotistical as to think he’s that good looking and knows it has more to do with the fact that he’s young and not balding with a beer belly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>So. He ignores it.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>He ignores it until he can’t.<em></em></em></p><p> </p><p>  <em></em><br/><em>(Or the one where Harry's a first time teacher, Louis is a shy student who has no qualms about writing his fantasies down on paper, and Niall and Zayn are really just along to embarrass Louis far more than he ever could himself.)</em><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Be asking how's it going (say the goings well)

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so first I want to apologize if this is actual shit. I tried but no telling if it's actually good or not.
> 
> Second, any mistakes are my own as I was too afraid to have anyone beta it in case they confirm that it's actually the worst story to ever be written. Sorry.
> 
> Third, as always, thank you for reading.

Harry Styles expects his first year of teaching to go at least minimally bad, if he’s being honest.

Expects himself to get overly frustrated when one of the boys gets cheeky with him one too many times. Expects to feel sad when he sees students who have lots of potential not trying at all due to their own laziness. Assumes, even, that he’ll let a curse or two accidentally slip out when discussing Romeo and Juliet later in the year because, _Jesus Christ,_ it’s not a _love story._

So yes, _minimally bad_ , he repeats it to himself like a mantra as he struggles to unlock his class room door with hands full of coffee and books and general _teacher_ things.

_Minimally bad, minimally bad._

Because he knows it’s unreasonable to expect everything to go perfectly, no matter how hard he tries.

_Minimally bad, minimally bad._

Because he’s placing his coffee and books on his desk, pulling out the obligatory _first day, get to know each other_ work sheets and he’s nervous enough to want to pack up all his things and walk back to his car before anyone sees him.

Drive back home and hide under his comforter until he eventually gets evicted from his flat for not paying rent on time, tries to ring his mum and ask to come back home only to find his phones been disconnected for not paying the bill.

He’ll have to live on the street, eat lunch out of a bin while begging for spare pounds-

A loud shrill from the class room speaker cuts into his reverie and he shakes the unreasonable thoughts from his head before glancing down at his watch and realizing class starts in ten minutes. Which means his students will start trickling in within the next five.

He sucks in a breath and walks toward the door with his hands clasped in front of himself, the hugest grin he can possibly muster plastered on his face. And he waits.

He’s 2 minutes in and is just starting to hear the faint chatter of voices coming down the hall when he realizes what a right creep he looks like.

 _Lurking_ by the door with a Jeffrey Dahmer smile, looking more like he’s ready to stick someone’s head in a freezer than teach them how to write a proper essay.

And that has him rushing back to his desk, sagging into his chair before realizing that’s a bit too casual and leaning up, resting his elbows on the mahogany.

He’s beginning to over think his greeting choices once again when two girls walk into his class room, heads bent as they laugh quietly to each other and take seats quickly in the front.

They don’t even glance at Harry as their conversation continues, and he’s beginning to feel like such a knob for worrying over something as silly as the placement of his body when his students enter the class room.

He lets out a small sigh and begins to relax before repeating to himself once again _minimally bad, only minimally bad._

He can do this.

*

He absolutely cannot do this.

To be fair, the first half of the day had actually gone well, with only minimal embarrassment and general awkwardness on Harry’s part.

His first 3 classes were actually pretty quiet, which Harry chalks up to the earliness of the morning. No one seemed to be too much of a trouble maker and the most he thinks he’ll have to deal with is a few chatter boxes, once everyone gets more comfortable in the classroom.

He completely ignores the way some of the girls’, and even a few of the boys’, eyes bulge as they send _discreet_ glances to each other after having a look at Harry. He’s not so egotistical as to think he’s that good looking and knows it has more to do with the fact that he’s _young_ and not balding with a beer belly.

So. He ignores it.

He ignores it until he can’t.

It’s his fourth class of the day and Harry is just beginning to get in the swing of things, is feeling more confident than before and is actually able to believe it when he tells himself he can do this.

The late bell has just rung and Harry is half way to closing the class room door when it pushes open suddenly and a short boy with brown hair and square glasses falling off his nose stumbles into the room, out of breath with a fierce blush across his cheeks.

And. Okay.

Harry tries, tries _really_ fucking hard, to not think about how attractive this boy standing in front of him is. Because he’s obviously a student and at least 5 years younger than Harry, and Harry is a _teacher_ for god’s sake. So he can’t. He cannot notice the sharp cheek bones, the deep blue eyes, or the sweeping brown hair.

The boy speaks before Harry has the chance to and he almost groans at the high pitched, fluttery sound of it. He is so fucked.

“I’m-I’m sorry I’m late. I just got a bit chatty in my last class with Mrs. Flack, yeah?  See, I have a mate I haven’t seen since before summer so we were doing the old catch up and I guess we shouldn’t have done that in the middle of class so she kept me after to have a talk, I’m sure if you emailed her she’d tell you the same-”

“It’s alright Mr.- ” Harry cuts the boy off before he has the chance to ramble on further. Students are starting to snicker and the boy is flushing even deeper and Harry is beginning to imagine those cheeks reddening for reasons other than embarrassment and he’d very much like this _whole_ exchange to end about 10 seconds ago.

“Tomlinson.” The boy rushes out and Harry nods before glancing down at his role sheet to see _Louis Tomlinson_ before looking up with as easy of a smile as he can muster.

“Right, Louis, go ahead and have a seat anywhere. We were just about to begin.”

Louis nods quickly before hefting his rucksack higher on his shoulders and hurrying to the back of the class room to sit next to a boy sporting a leather jacket and quaffed hair.

The boy is smirking at Louis and Harry sees him whisper something under his breath that has Louis replying with a _fuck off_ and Harry turns around quickly, pretending not to hear the exchange as he begins calling out names for role.

*

The first note comes nearly two weeks later, disguised as an essay within a stack of papers Harry is working on grading while sipping red wine on a Friday night.

_Dear Mr. Styles,_

_I’m sat here, where I should be writing an essay on whether or not I believe the evil sisters in Macbeth actually hold supernatural powers, yet all I can think about is you._

_I think of you a lot, if I’m honest. I sit at my desk pretending to be listening to your lecture when really all I’m doing is admiring you._

_I imagine running my hands through your hair while you kiss me, soft and slow. You touching me all over until I’m breathless and moaning, and you’ll grab my arse and squeeze it because god your hands are so big and I bet you could fit my whole bum in them. Your hands are all I’ve thought about for the last two weeks, Mr. Styles._

_Every day I stare at your fingers as they write on the board or tug on your lip when you’re deep in thought and I can’t help but to think about how good they’d feel pressed inside…_

_Sorry, the library’s about to close. I’ve gotta go._

Harry stares at the paper in disbelief for a few more moments before reading it once more, just in case this is all actually a wine induced haze and he hasn’t just received a sexual letter from one of his students about _himself._

He knows it has to be from someone in his fourth class, as he keeps each classes work separate so he doesn’t get confused when passing papers back and this one came out of the fourth folder. He flounders as he tries to think of who could have possibly written this note but comes up blank.

He notes the student says they should have been writing their essay at the time so he shuffles through the folder quickly, trying to find if anyone didn’t turn a paper in, but each students is accounted for and Harry still can’t actually believe this is happening to him.

He debates handing the note into the headmistress but quickly decides against it when he thinks back to Nick taking the piss about him being the hot teacher who gets fired for boning one of the students.

Harry groans as he imagines himself getting blamed for the whole thing, somehow being seen as instigating the letter by getting too friendly with one of the students or something.

He scrubs a hand over his face and whispers out a _fuck, fuck, fuck_ before setting the paper aside and grabbing his next essay to grade.

He’ll forget about it, that’s what he’ll do. It’s probably just a girl with a silly crush and she’ll be moved on from it by next week and Harry can just completely forget about the note. He has to.

*

Forgetting about the note is easier said than done when, the following Monday in class, Harry has his lip rolling between his fingers as he unconsciously scans his fourth class to see if anyone is paying any specific attention to him. But everyone is going over their essays Harry just handed back, huffing or bragging about the grade they were given, and no one seems to be even giving him a glance.

Harry sighs before shaking his head, tells himself to forget about the note for the millionth time, and claps his hands together to quiet everyone down.

“Right,” Harry begins. “Today we’re going to be doing some reading from the text so, uh, Zayn, could you help me pass the books out please?”

Harry heads to the shelves in the back of the room to start gathering books while Zayn does the same with only minimum sighing and one pulled face at Louis, which Harry ignores.

“Really, Zayn?” Harry chuckles as he glances down to see that Zayn’s only picked up three books and is about to turn away to begin setting them on desks.

“They’re heavy!” Zayn protests and Harry shakes his head with a laugh.

“I’ve got less muscle than you and I can carry more than that, come on.” Harry reaches down to pick up another book and is just about to stand back up when he nearly drops every text book on himself at Zayn’s next words.

“Guess its cause you got such big hands, innit?”

Harry chokes. That’s the only way to describe the sounds that come out of his mouth. He coughs and sputters and nearly keels over before glancing at Zayn in disbelief.

But. Zayn doesn’t look like he’s just said something inappropriate. There’s not a hint of the usual smirk on his face like when him or Louis’ just said something cheeky, just a small, confused smile as he stares at Harry.

“Alright, Mr. Styles?” Zayn’s eyebrows begin to furrow as he continues to stare at Harry as if he’s lost his mind and Harry briefly thinks that he probably has.

“Alright. Yeah, alright.” Harry mutters before turning away and beginning to place books on everyone’s desk.

Zayn shrugs and begins to do the same and just as Harry’s going back to pick up more books, he happens to glance at Louis, who is staring very determinedly at his desk, a scowl on his face, and his cheeks redder than Harry’s ever seen them.

Harry would very much like to not think about the blush on Louis Tomlinson’s face or what could have possibly put it there.

*

It’s only two days later when, after Harry’s just finished with hallway duty, he’s walking back to his class room to gather his things and leave for the day. He stops in front of his door when he sees a lone piece of paper hanging out of his late work mail box, which the students are to turn assignments into if Harry’s not in the class room at the time.

Harry grabs it with a furrowed brow, trying to think of whose homework this could be as he hasn’t assigned anything since the essays that were turned in last week. The paper is folded in half and he pulls it open only to have his heart sink.

He sees a _Dear Mr. Styles_ printed at the top of the page and quickly folds it back before unlocking his classroom door and rushing inside, closing and locking it back behind him.

Harry takes in a few deep breaths before walking over to his desk and taking a seat, tossing the still folded letter onto his desk. Harry has a feeling. Has a feeling he knows who it is who’s writing these letters and he’s at a complete loss on what to do about it.

He toys with the idea of confronting Louis himself but he can already imagine how awkward that situation would be, especially if Louis isn’t the ones writing the letters and Harry is just having a bit of wishful thinking,

His cheeks pink up at that thought flitting through his mind, that maybe some small, completely inappropriate, part of him _hopes_ Louis is the one writing these notes. Because although Harry knows it’s wrong on so many levels, and he’s not fully able to wrap his head around it, he finds himself sometimes thinking of Louis.

Especially since receiving the first note, he’s found himself once or twice absentmindedly glancing at Louis bum as he walks down the rows of desks back to his seat. He always looks away quickly, of course, once he catches himself doing it and prays that none of the other students had seen.

And Harry is torn between thinking of himself as disgusting while the other part of his brain attempts to reason with him, whispering that Louis _is_ eighteen, Harry is still young, and Louis is just so _pretty_ and this has never been a thing for Harry.

He’s never specifically been attracted to someone who was younger than him on purpose, but Louis has an air to him that seems so much more mature and cheeky all at once and Harry just knows he’s going straight to hell.

He sighs before glancing around quickly and snatching the letter off his desk. Harry unfolds it slowly before taking a deep breath and begins reading.

_Dear Mr. Styles,_

_First I’d like to thank you for not sharing my last note with anyone._

_I realize it was cut off rather abruptly and I’d like the chance to remedy that._

_Because, still, I just can’t get the image of your hands and fingers out of my head. Every other part of you is good as well, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about the way I imagine your fingers pressed deep inside me._

_They’re so long and I just know they could get to that perfect spot that I’m never quit able to reach myself. I always try though, Mr. Styles. I try really hard for you._

_That’s what I think of a lot. You watching me as I try to get myself off, my fingers pushing in and out of myself as I desperately try to reach that spot inside that will make me come._

_But my fingers are so small compared to yours, and I eventually have to beg for your help, when I’m so desperate to get off I’m practically crying into the pillow. But you always tell me no, I have do it on my own first. Because I need to be a good boy for you._

_At that point, I have to grab my cock and it usually only takes a few tugs before I’m spilling all over my hand._

_Just writing this letter has made me hard, Mr. Styles. I’ll be thinking of you, as always._

The letter doesn’t give away any more than the first one had, besides confirming that it is in fact a boy writing them and Harry is flushed down to his chest once he’s finished reading it. He nearly has a panic attack after realizing he’s half hard in his slacks and is utterly turned on just by the thought of Louis writing these simple words on a page.

He doesn’t have time to read the note one more time, as he would like to, because there’s suddenly a knock at his door that his him shooting out of his chair, crumpling the paper up, and throwing it into a random drawer in his desk.

“Uhm, one second!” Harry calls out as he pushes back his hair and wills the flush of his cheeks to go away.

He walks to the door slowly as he feels himself begin to calm and pulls it open to find Niall Horan, a boy from his sixth class, standing in front of him, smiling broadly.

“Niall, can I help you?” Harry leans against the door frame, smiling shakily as he makes an attempt at looking normal.

That all goes to shit when he glances sideways to find Louis leaning against the lockers next to his class room door, staring down at his phone as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

Harry’s eyes are drawn back to Niall as he begins speaking.

“Hey Mr. Styles, sorry to bother you but me and Lou were just on our way to practice and I thought I’d stop by to see if you got the note I put in your box?”

Harry’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head and he can see Louis’ head snap up out of his peripheral, wearing a similar look of disbelief on his face.

“N-note?” Harry stutters out before swallowing thickly. This has to be a joke. It has to be.

Niall only looks confused though before glancing absently at Harry’s mailbox.

“Right, my note.” Niall continues before looking back at Harry. “It’s my doctor’s note for missing class yesterday?”

Harry flounders for a moment before shaking his head dumbly and glancing at Louis, who is now staring intently down the hallway, paying them no mind.

“No,” He begins slowly. “Sorry, Niall, there uh wasn’t any note in my box.”

Niall glances around with his brow furrowed for a moment before a big smile spreads over his face and he lets out a loud laugh.

“I’m such an idiot.” He gives another chuckle before walking next door to Mr. Payne’s class and pulling a slip out of his mail box. “Must have accidentally put it in the wrong box, eh? Whoops, well here you go. I already got the notes from Louis so I should be all caught up.”

Harry nods dumbly as he takes the note out of Niall’s hands and scans it for lack of anything better to do.

“Right. Ok, well thanks Niall.”

“Alright, later Mr. Styles. We gotta get to practice.”

Niall turns away and begins walking down the hall, Louis close on his heels, when Harry decides he has to say something. He has to be a mature adult about the situation.

“Louis?” Harry watches as the two boys stop dead in their tracks and Louis turns towards him slowly, not quit meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Styles?”      

“Can I have a word?” Louis glances back at Niall helplessly before grabbing his wrist and pulling him down the hallway.

“I’m sorry Mr. Styles, but I can’t be late to footie anymore or I’m off the team. Sorry!” Louis shouts the last word as him and Niall abruptly turn a corner and Harry shakes his head in bewilderment before heading back into his class room.

And if Harry takes the note out of his desk, that he’s now almost one hundred percent positive Louis has written, and quickly shoves it into his bag before heading home, well, no one has to know.

*

It’s two and a half weeks later and Harry hasn’t received any more notes. Louis is back to acting as if nothing had happened, joking off with Zayn in the back of the room. He has trouble meeting Harry’s eyes sometimes and always gets a small blush whenever Harry calls on him to answer a question, but nothing more besides that.

It’s five o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon when Harry is driving home after staying late to catch up on his lesson plans. It’s pissing buckets and Harry is driving slower than he could probably walk due to the rain coming down on his windshield.

He’s just about to turn left onto his block when, in a moment of clarity through the windshield, he sees someone with a black hoodie rushing down the street ahead of his car. He doesn’t mistake the black and white checkered vans rucksack or the rolled up trousers for anyone other than Louis.

Harry curses before driving straight, instead of left, and pulls up right alongside Louis, who is still staring at the ground as he tries to block the rain from his eyes.

Harry honks the horn to get his attention and Louis looks up with a startled look before recognition flashes in his eyes as Harry waves at him to get in the car.

Louis looks around for a moment with a hesitant face before Harry honks the horn again and Louis opens the door quickly, slipping into the passenger seat before slamming the door closed.

His teeth are chattering and he’s practically dripping. Harry just wants to cuddle him.

“Why are you walking in the rain?” Harry asks with an exasperated voice as Louis pulls off his sopping wet jacket and fiddles with the controls on the car to turn the heat up higher.

“B-because I h-had to run extra laps-s for footie since I-I was l-late again and Niall h-had to go to work so h-he couldn’t stay to drive me home.” Louis voice stops shivering towards the end as he grows warmer and finally looks at Harry with a guilty look. “I’m sorry for getting your seats all wet.”

“Jesus, it’s fine, Louis. Just, where do you live?” Harry prays he lives somewhere close because the rain is beginning to come down even harder and it doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.

“Uhm, just about 10 minutes from here, it’s right down the street from-”

“You’re coming to mine.” Harry cuts Louis off as he begins driving again, pulling into a random car park before backing out and heading back towards his house.

“What?” Louis practically squeaks out and Harry can’t help but chuckle.

“My house is barely a minute from here and I can hardly see to make it. I’ll never make it to yours with the rain like this. I’ll get you some dry clothes and drive you home once the rain stops.” And Harry knows it’s probably a monumentally bad idea but he doesn’t see himself having any other choice in the matter.

Louis is silent as he stares down at his hands and fiddles with his fingers. They make it to Harry’s house only a few minutes later and he reaches into the back to grab his things after parking the car.

“Uhm, I’ve only got one umbrella.” Harry apologizes as he pulls it out from the back seat.

“You use it.” Louis rushes out. “I’m already soaked and you said you’d get me dry clothes anyways so there’s no point in both of us being wet.

“Just rush to the door, yeah?” Harry says, and then he’s pushing his door open, opening up the umbrella and running towards the steps of his flat.

He hears Louis door close from behind him and quickly sticks the key in the lock before pushing the door open and holding it open for Louis as he dashes inside.

“Follow me.” Harry closes the door and makes his way to the bathroom with Louis following behind him, teeth chattering again. “There’s towels in the cabinet, dry off while I get you some clothes, alright?”

Harry is walking towards his bedroom before Louis has the chance to answer and he quickly pulls an old pair of sweats and a white t shirt that’s now too small for him out of his drawer.

Louis is standing in the door way of the bathroom, towel drying his hair when Harry returns and hands him the clothes.

“The sweats might be a little big but you can just roll them up.” Harry scratches the back of his head and tries not to think about how inappropriate this may or may not be. “Just, uhm, come out whenever you’re done. I’ll make us some tea.”

Louis nods and begins closing the door. Harry hears a soft _thank you_ before it snicks shut.

Harry lets out a breath before heading to the kitchen to put the kettle on. It’s only a few minutes later when Louis walks out, hair almost completely dry and Harry’s clothes hanging off him in the loveliest way possible.

Louis sits at one of the dining room chairs before Harry carries over two cups of tea and a bowl of sugar, sitting in the seat across from him.

“Sorry, I don’t have any cream.” Louis only nods before dumping two spoonful’s of sugar in his cup and taking a small sip.

“You’re quiet.” Harry notes.

“Sorry.” Louis says automatically before taking another sip. “Thank you, again. For doing this.”

“Couldn’t just leave you out in the rain, could I?” Louis gives Harry a small smile at that and Harry can hardly look away from him.

He looks so incredibly tiny and cuddly sitting in Harry’s dining room, wearing his clothes, and drinking his tea. He looks down quickly when Louis glances up and catches him staring and, god, why is he acting like a fucking teenager who’s alone with their crush for the first time.

“Louis, I think there’s something we should discuss while you’re here.” Harry knows there are probably better places to have this conversation, whether it be in the headmistress’s office or in a conference with Louis parents. But.

Louis is so shy and Harry doesn’t want to embarrass him any further than he knows he’s about to by telling other people about the notes. Harry thinks if he can just talk to Louis about them and why it’s not appropriate, he can maybe squash the situation without causing them both death by mortification.

As it is, Louis is already looking down into his empty cup, cheeks flaming, and hands gripping the table tightly.

“Have you been the one writing me those notes?” Harry speaks in a gentle tone, trying to sound as least threatening as possible.

“Yes.” Louis whispers, and then his face is in his hands and he’s curling in on himself before speaking through his fingers. “Yes, I wrote them, and I’m so sorry Mr. Styles. I know it was wrong and I wish I’d never done it and I promise to stop if you just _please, please_ don’t tell my parents. They’ll absolutely disown me and I’m not out to them so they can’t, _they can’t_ know I’m gay-”

Louis’ voice is edging on hysteria and Harry doesn’t even think before grabbing Louis wrists and pulling them gently away from his face. His cheeks are beet red and he’s looking at Harry with so much guilt and Harry just can’t take it.

“Hey, shh. I’m not gonna tell your parents, alright?” Harry slowly brings Louis wrist down to rest their hands in his lap as Louis sags back against his chair, breath calming.

They’re both quiet after that, Louis looking down in his lap as Harry stares in concern, not knowing what to say next. He’s saved from having to think of anything when Louis jumps out of his chair suddenly, throwing himself at Harry and crushing their lips together.

Harry is unresponsive at first, too shocked to even push Louis away, but Louis presses even harder and Harry is standing from his chair in no time, pressing his lips back against Louis’ and gripping his waist tightly.

Louis hands fly to Harry’s hair and bury in his curls, moaning low as he opens his mouth to him.

Harry pushes his tongue past Louis lips slowly, tasting him completely as he turns them slightly, pushing Louis back until he’s sitting on the table with his legs bracketing Harry’s waist.

He pulls Louis body flush against his own, which has Louis tugging on his hair and whimpering into his mouth while kissing him even harder.

Harry slides his hands around Louis back before pushing them under his shirt and rubbing small circles into the bottom of his spine, just above the waist band of his trousers.

“Mr. Styles-”

“Harry. Fuck, call me Harry, please.” Harry goes in for another kiss as Louis gasps out a _Harry_ against his lips and he tries to forget about Louis calling him Mr. Styles.

Tries to forget that he’s Louis _teacher_ but he can’t now that he’s been reminded and he pulls back from the kiss slowly, resting his forehead against Louis and pulling his hands out from underneath his shirt.

“ _Please._ ” Louis whimpers out and Harry shuts his eyes to keep himself from losing all his resolve right then and there.

“We can’t, Louis. I’m your teacher for god’s sake.”

“I’m eighteen.” Louis whispers out as his hands drop from Harry’s hair onto his chest and Harry brings one of his hands up to Louis face, rubbing his cheek gently with his thumb.

“I know, but you’re still my student and I could lose my job.”

“I wouldn’t tell.” Louis rushes out as his fingers tighten in Harry’s shirt.

Harry thinks briefly of Zayn and Niall and how they each know at least _something_ about the notes, but Louis speaks with such conviction that Harry decides not to question it right then.

He extracts himself slowly from Louis before glancing towards the window to see that the rains slowed down to barely a sprinkle outside.

“I should get you home. Your parents are probably worried.” Louis looks as if he wants to protest but stays quiet as he slips off the table and heads towards the door, pulling his still wet shoes on.

He gathers his things and walks out the door, Harry grabbing his keys and trailing after him. They both slip into the car and Louis types his address into the GPS.

It’s quiet for the first few minutes as Harry listens to the voice telling him when to make his turns and which streets to go down.

“Look Louis, I’m really sorry,” Harry begins. “That shouldn’t have happened and if I made you uncomfortable in anyway, you need to tell someone. I won’t be mad. It was wrong of me to kiss you like that and I don’t want you to be scared to tell-”

“I _wanted_ it to happen.” Louis huffs out. “I’m not a bloody child. You’re what, twenty five? I’m not that much younger, Harry. And I kissed you, remember?”

Harry is silent at that, with lack of anything better to say. He pulls up to Louis building eventually and puts the car in park before turning to Louis, who is staring pointedly out the window.

“Do Niall and Zayn know about the notes you’ve given me?”

“No. God no. They just. I won’t lie, I’ve talked about you before and okay maybe Zayn was taking the piss when he made that stupid comment about your hands but honest, the Niall thing was a big coincidence and I _never_ told them about the notes. You have to believe me.” Louis is looking at him desperately and Harry nods his head slowly.

“You can’t tell them about what happened today.” And Harry feels so fucking dirty and guilty about having to say those words. Like a creep praying on some innocent then goading them into not telling their mummy and daddy.

“I wouldn’t.” Louis rushes out. “I would never. I wanted it too, Harry. More than you, obviously.”

The last part is said in a whisper and Harry nearly groans at the heart break of it. At the fact that there is no way Harry could ever not want Louis that much now that he’s had a taste and the universe is just so unfair sometimes.

“You’re wrong.” Harry says simply. “Go inside before your mum comes out and begins asking questions.”

Louis stares at him a moment longer with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and Harry knows if he stays even a few more seconds he’ll be snogging Louis face off in no time.

But Louis turns away, finally, and grabs his rucksack before pushing the car door open and stepping out.

Louis ducks his head back into the car and he’s suddenly got a small, cheeky grin on his face.

“Make sure you’re looking out for my next note, Mr. Styles.” With that Louis closes the car door shut and rushes up the steps to his flat.

Harry’s head falls against the steering wheel as he lets out a long groan. He is so _fucked._

*

Harry is on edge for the rest of the week as he waits to see where Louis will hide the next note.

But he never gets one and the weekend comes without incident, Louis being quiet and attentive in the back of class, not even meeting Harry’s eyes once.

He makes it through the weekend and manages to only think of Louis once when pulling himself off in the shower. Which. He deserves a medal or something for that.

He’s rushing out the door Monday morning, late as usual, when he nearly trips over something on his door step.

He bends down to pick up the neatly folded clothes he’d let Louis borrow last week and puts them in the crook of his arm as he catches the single note that falls out of them.

_Dear Mr. Styles,_

_I can be inconspicuous._

_555-8925_

Harry can’t help but to chuckle at the note before folding it up and pushing it into his back pocket. He opens his flat door and tosses the clothes onto his sofa before hurrying to his car.

*

As it would turn out, Louis can be so inconspicuous he doesn’t even show up to class that day and Harry has to squelch the disappointment he feels at that.

After fourth, his head is in a different place for the rest of the day as he can’t stop thinking of all the reasons Louis didn’t bother to come.

The idea that Louis finally realized what they did was wrong and decided to tell someone briefly flits through Harry’s mind but he pushes the thought away immediately, knowing Louis wouldn’t do something like that.

By the time Harry reaches his car at the end of the day, he’s come up with a million different scenarios as to why Louis didn’t come to class and he’s practically itching to pull his phone out and send him a text to make sure he’s alright.

He fights himself on the whole ride home, torn between how improper it would be to use the phone number given to him and how much he _really_ just wants to speak to Louis.

He’s been sitting on his couch for the last twenty minutes, staring at his phone and the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, lip tucked between his teeth. And he decides to just go for it.

_Harry: Why weren’t you in class?_

It’s fifteen minutes of Harry tugging on his hair, pacing the living room floor, and flipping through random channels on the telly later that he gets a response.

**Louis: I was waiting for your text. Miss me?**

Harry nearly slaps himself at his own stupidity. _Of course_ Louis would think of something as clever as not showing up to class the day he gives him his number to make Harry wonder and feel like he _has_ to text him.

_Harry: You’re such a brat. You skipped on purpose. You knew it would get me to text you._

Louis reply comes instantly.

**Louis: Maybe. It worked, didn’t it?**

Harry huffs out a laugh at that and shakes his head as he thinks of what to respond with. Another message comes in though and he opens it quickly.

**Louis: I want to see you.**

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his before chewing on his lip, contemplating.

**Louis: Please.**

Harry reads the text three times before he’s off the sofa, sliding his shoes back on and walking out the door to his car, texting Louis on the way.

_Harry: Are you home? I’m coming to get you._

**Louis: :) Just got done with practice. I’m at the old library across the street from school.**

_Harry: Be there in 5._

As promised, Harry arrives a few minutes later. Louis spots the car and glances around quickly before sliding inside and dropping down to the floor board.

“Seriously?” Harry stares in amused bewilderment as Louis peeks out the window, glancing around furtively.

“We’re trying to be conspicuous!” Louis hisses out before ducking back down.

“No one can hear you.” Harry laughs. “Or see you, for that matter. No one actually comes to the library, Louis.”

“I quite like the library, thank you very much.” Louis huffs out as he slides into his seat and clicks his safety buckle into place all while muttering out a _what kind of English teacher trash talks the_ library.

“Where are we going, then?” Louis settles his back against the door and looks at Harry, effectively cutting off thoughts of Louis rambling on about him being an English teacher.

“Back to mine.” Harry glances at Louis, who is now giving him a small smile, cheeks tinting pink before he looks away.

They make it back to Harry’s in no time and he’s telling Louis to have a seat and get comfortable before asking if he wants a drink or anything.

Louis lets out a polite _no thank you_ and takes a seat at one end of the sofa.

Harry nods before sitting on the other end, and he really doesn’t know where to go from here. Doesn’t know the proper protocol for making a move on a student.

“Do you want to, uhm, watch a film?” Harry asks just to break the silence and Louis looks around the room before glancing at him uncertainly.

“Is that what you want to do?”

Harry stares at Louis for a moment longer, watching the way his teeth chew on his bottom lip and Harry would certainly like to have the honor of doing that himself.

“That is definitely _not_ what I want to do.” Harry decides before glancing back up into Louis eyes.

“Me either.” Louis lets out a breath before looking down at his clasped hands.

“Come here.” Harry whispers and Louis head snaps up at that.

He lets out a breath before crawling across the sofa slowly, settling into Harry’s lap, on his knees with his legs bracketing Harry’s thighs.

Harry reaches up and yanks Louis chin towards him, crushing their mouths together. Louis moans immediately and wraps his arms quickly around Harry’s shoulders.

The kiss is desperate, wet tongues sliding together as Harry rubs his hands down Louis sides, breaking the kiss to pull off the boys striped t shirt before unbuttoning his own and shrugging out of it quickly.

The moment it’s off, they’re kissing again, Louis arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders like he never wants to let go and Harry is sliding his hands down his back before grabbing his arse and rubbing their bodies together.

Louis gasps out at that before sagging against Harry and he uses the opportunity to begin kissing down the boy’s neck, making small bites along the way.

Louis is nearly shaking against him now and Harry whispers out a _hold on tight_ into his ear before grabbing him by the thighs and lifting them slightly off the couch to turn around and lay Louis down, pressing him into the cushions with his own body.

The second their crotches meet, Louis is crying out as his head falls back and his eyes slide shut. Harry moans at the blissed out look on Louis face as he rubs their hard cocks together slowly.

Louis is panting now, arms falling above his head and hands burying in his own hair, tugging on it as if trying to ground himself and god, Harry has never been so turned on in his life.

He reaches up and pulls Louis hands out of his hair gently before entwining their fingers together and Louis opens his eyes to look up at him gratefully.

Harry is kissing him again within seconds, pressing him further into the sofa as he speeds up the grinding of his hips until Louis lips fall slack, unable to even concentrate on the kiss anymore.

“Can we-can we go to bed?” Louis has his head tilted back as Harry litters small kisses all over his neck, and the question comes out in a rushed breath.

Harry pulls back, stopping the motion of his hips, and Louis whimpers at the loss before Harry is nuzzling his nose into the boy’s cheek, urging him to turn his head and look at him.

“Have you ever-” Harry asks once their eyes meet and Louis cheeks immediately blush red.

“No. I mean-not with anyone else-but like, I’ve used my fingers before, obviously.”

Harry thinks briefly of how fucking hot that image is, but decides right there that he’s not going to take Louis how he wants. Doesn’t want his first time to be like this.

Harry pulls their hands down the cushions, so it’s more of them just holding hands than it is him holding Louis down. He rests his body back against Louis and starts up with the grinding of his hips once again, this time with more intent.

Their lips meet roughly and Harry immediately shoves his tongue into the other boy’s mouth as he feels their hard cocks drag together repeatedly, and he doesn’t know if this is enough to make him come but he can tell Louis is getting close.

He’s tugging on Harry’s hands desperately, back arching as he tries to press even closer while whispering out a breathless little _Harry, Harry please_ between their lips.

And Harry knows what he’s asking for. Knows he’s struggling to pull his hands out of Harry’s so he can get ahold of the buttons on their trousers.

“Not gonna fuck you, Lou.” Harry grunts into his mouth and Louis whimpers high in his throat at that, a needy noise that has Harry groaning and tugging on Louis bottom lip with his teeth.

“Please Harry, m’ready. I want you, _please._ ” Louis somehow gets a hand lose while Harry is momentarily distracted and he immediately buries his finger into Harrys curls, smashing their lips together.

Harry uses his now free hand to grip Louis hip tightly, holding him still as he rocks them together faster and harder.

“M’gonna come.” Louis cries out and Harry speeds up even further.

“Good, babe. I want you to. Want you to come all in your trousers for me. Gonna be so hot, Lou.” One second Harry is rotating his hips, pushing Louis into the cushions and the next, with a surprising show of strength from Louis, he’s being pushed off of him and pressed back against the arm rest.

Louis straddles his hips immediately, deliberately pressing his bum against Harry’s hard cock and Harry can do nothing but moan helplessly.

“Don’t wanna come in my trousers.” Louis whimpers against his mouth. “Wanna come with you inside me. Please, Harry.”

Harry cups Louis face in his hands and searches his eyes, and Harry is just so desperate to give him everything he wants. He feels like he’s losing control and if he gives Louis this last thing, it’ll be it. There will be no going back.

He’ll have slept with a student and he needs to say no, should have put a stop to this whole thing a long time ago. But he’s already in too deep and he can’t think of anything he wants more than Louis.

“You’ve thought about this? You’re sure?” Harry presses a small kiss against the corner of Louis mouth as he begins nodding desperately.

“Every night, Harry. I don’t want anyone else.” Louis whispers the words and Harry groans at the admission, feeling the exact same way.

“Up.” Harry pats the younger boy’s thigh before pushing them both off the couch and grabbing ahold of Louis hand.

He leads them down the hallway into his bedroom and the moment they’re inside, he has Louis pressed into the mattress, kissing him roughly as he struggles to pull off both their trousers and pants.

They’re naked in seconds and Louis is writhing against him at the first brush of their bare cocks sliding together, his hands gripping Harry’s biceps as he moans out.

“One second, babe.” Harry crawls part way up Louis body to reach into the bedside drawer to pull out lube and a condom.

He wriggles back down to settle his weight back over him before giving Louis a small kiss on the lips as he uncaps the lube in his hand.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks one more time, just for good measure.

Louis is nodding before Harry even finishes his sentence and he’s so turned on by how worked up the boy beneath him is. He’s practically gagging for Harry’s cock as he unconsciously ruts up against Harry, legs tightening further on his waist.

Harry pours some lube on to three of his fingers and rubs them together quickly before reaching between his and Louis body to brush over Louis hole.

Louis is gasping at that, body arching up on a moan. Harry shushes him quickly before pressing their lips together as he gently slides the first finger in.

The kiss is lazy as Harry quickly works up to sliding in a second finger. Louis legs are beginning to slip off his waist and before Harry has the chance to lift them back up himself, Louis pulls them up and tightens them behind Harry’s back.

“Good boy.” Harry whispers unconsciously before slipping a third finger in and Louis very nearly loses his mind.

A long whine rips from his chest and his hands fly into Harry’s hair before tugging as hard as he can.

“You like that?” Harry asks as he speeds up the movement of his fingers. “Like when I tell you what a good boy you are? So perfect for me, Louis.”

Louis is nearly sobbing into Harry’s mouth now as he bares down on his fingers, fucking himself back onto the digits inside him the best he can in this position.

“I’m ready.” Louis whimpers out. “Please, Harry, want you now.”

Harry grunts at that before slipping his fingers out slowly and grabbing the condom next to Louis head, tearing it open and slipping it onto himself quickly.

Louis has the lube in his hand before Harry has the chance to reach it and he pours out a generous amount before grabbing Harry’s cock, tugging on it slowly to spread the lube.

Harry groans as he hangs his head, watching the way Louis tiny hand barely fits around his cock and he knows he’s gonna come in seconds if Louis doesn’t stop.

He reaches down and pushes the younger boys hand away gently and tangles their fingers together, resting their arms above their heads.

“Gonna fuck you now.” Harry says before using his free hand to guide himself to Louis hole.

Louis only lets out a small whimper at that as he looks up into Harry’s face, lip caught between his teeth. Harry begins pushing in slowly and he can tell Louis is struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Look at me.” Harry whispers as he finally bottoms out. “Feels good, yeah?”

“Feels so good, Harry. Love having you inside me.” Louis is moaning now, fighting to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head as Harry makes small movements with his hips, grinding slowly into the boy beneath him.

“Just tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

“It’s so much.” Louis whispers as his head falls back and he finally gives up trying to keep his eyes open.

“Just relax, babe. We can go as slow as you need.” Harry sucks gently on Louis neck, never hard enough to make a mark, but enough to hopefully calm him down.

It’s only a few moments later that Louis is nodding his head and whispering out a _m’ready, you can move._

Harry starts slow, only pulling out a fraction before pushing back into him. He continues like that until he’s finally built up a pace, pulling out until the head of his cock catches on Louis rim and then shoving back inside.

Louis is letting out little _uh, uh, uh’s,_ with every push of Harry’s hips and he looks so beautiful. Eyes shut and head thrown back, arching into Harry like he can’t get enough of the pleasure.

“Tell me.” Harry asks desperately as he picks up the pace, pounding into Louis as hard as he can. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good, Harry.” Louis is crying out now, pushing his hips down to meet each of Harry’s thrusts and Harry knows he’s close. “Gonna come, Harry. _Please.”_

“Yeah, babe, come all over yourself. Make a mess for me, baby. You’ve been so good.” Harry shoves a hand in Louis hair and pulls his head back, shoving his tongue down Louis throat as he cries Harry’s name once more.

He feels Louis clench around him just as he spills between them, hot come streaking up both their bellies.

It only takes a few more breathless snaps of Harry’s hips before he’s burying himself as deep as he can in Louis, come shooting into the condom.

He pulls out slowly a few moments later, rolling to the side and bringing Louis with him. He buries his head into Harry’s neck as their breathing begins to slow and they relax into each other.

*

It’s around eight o’clock when Harry is driving Louis back home, after many cuddles, kisses, and a takeout dinner Harry ordered for them.

He leans over the console and kisses Louis deeply before whispering out a _good night._

Louis giggles as he opens the car door and Harry gives him a swat on the bum, just because.

“Good night, Mr. Styles. See you in class tomorrow.” Louis says sweetly before closing the car door.

Harry waits until he’s sure Louis made it inside okay before driving off, a smile on his face the whole way home.

*

Things change, and things don’t.

Harry never stops receiving cheeky notes from Louis, but it’s actually ideal now that they can act out a few of the fantasies in real life.

They’re good at keeping their relationship a secret and Louis only has to remind him a few times that he is very much an adult and Harry is in no way taking advantage of him.

Harry helps Louis pick out a uni close to home, so he’s still able to travel by train to come home to Harry on the weekends.

And when it comes time to Louis meeting Harry’s family, they decide it’s best not to elaborate too deeply on how they met through Harry’s job.

**Author's Note:**

> You made it to then end, go you!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading/enjoying.
> 
> :)


End file.
